Old-Fashioned Candy
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: He couldn't remember the last Christmas he'd celebrated. Wasn't exactly something a brain-washed Hydra assassin was allowed to do. Bucky Xmas one-shot. Minor Romanogers, and undertones of Stucky and Bucky/Nat.


**Happy New Year Everybody!**

**Just a little Christmas drabble written for my amazing best friend, luverofjamesandlily! **

**I don't own Captain America or the Avengers.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

Bucky watched through the windows of the Avengers Tower as snow dropped slowly from the sky and onto the massive city that New York had become below. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten the chance to really look at the city as it was now. Hell, for that matter, he couldn't remember the last Christmas he'd celebrated. It had been a nice Christmas. Gifts had been exchanged, laughter had filled the room, and several people had been pulled under the mistletoe, including a very red-faced Steve by a very confident Natasha. For the first time in a very long time—though he was still getting to know quite a few of the Avengers—he had felt a part of something. Part of a family.

He downed the rest of his eggnog and set it on the coffee table just as Steve plopped down beside him. Bucky raised an eyebrow at the Santa hat sitting atop his best friend's head.

"Nice hat," Bucky scoffed.

Steve tilted his head and gave a little shrug. "Natasha," he said by way of explanation.

"Ah." Bucky nodded in understanding. Natasha, despite the bad encounters she'd had with him when he was under Hydra's control, had been one of the first Avengers to really give him a chance. From what he'd inferred as he'd gotten to know her, she wasn't completely free of her past actions either. She, too, had blood on her hands, and they seemed to have gained a mutual, unspoken, understanding of each other because of that.

By the time Steve had first found him and brought him back to the Tower, Bucky had regained most of his memories. He had remembered who he was. He also remembered what he had done. Both as James Barnes and as the feared Winter Soldier. But even upon remembering, there were still things that came back to him, often in the depths of sleep, clawing at him and tearing him to pieces until he screamed himself awake.

Natasha understood the nightmares, too. As well as what it was like to try and dig through the remnants of yourself, to scour the empty shell of a person he was, and try and find the humanity that still lingered within him. The humanity Steve always believed he had and fought so hard to save. Bucky wouldn't be telling the truth if he said it wasn't hard, becoming human again. Sometimes he forgot to shower and Natasha would gently remind him. Sometimes he would forget to eat, and Steve wouldn't even bother with a scolding, but prepare him a meal instead. Natasha even made him an appointment at a barbershop to get his hair cut, because he hardly did anything with it. Sometimes he would pull it back in a ponytail in an attempt to make it look like he was trying. Most of the time, though, it ended up just hanging in his face.

Hydra hadn't bothered to worry about his health, so neither had he.

No, they'd just opened him up and tore out all the parts that made him Bucky Barnes and replaced them with metal and wires, orders to kill and information on targets. He had fallen, his last image of Steve's outstretched hand. They had dragged his broken body away and sewed it back together, only to break it again. They'd broken him and made him forget that they'd done so in the first place. They'd ripped out any humanity he held with their bare hands, giving him all sharp edges and darting eyes. They made him into an animal with deadly precision and a thirst for victory. They were Dr. Frankenstein and he was their monster.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice broke through his stream of thoughts and Bucky looked up, startled.

Both his hands—one fragile flesh, the other glinting metal—were clenched into fists. _One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand…_he counted to ten in his head, a deep breath accompanying each number. Steve waited patiently by his side until Bucky looked back up at him.

"I'm good," Bucky said softly.

Steve pressed his lips together, but didn't push. He'd been nothing but patient with Bucky and knew that it would take time for him to heal. Bucky could tell that part of Steve wanted Bucky to open up, to see if he could help in some way, but Bucky needed to heal somewhat on his own too. He needed to find himself again before he could truly let anyone else in.

"Here," Steve said handing Bucky a moderately sized box.

"Steve—" Bucky tried to protest as he reluctantly took the box, but Steve beat him to it.

"I know you didn't want anything," Steve said. "But Natasha wouldn't let it go. She called me an idiot for just dropping it so easily, so, I thought…you know…since it's our first Christmas in a while…I thought I should get you a little something at least."

The honest openness on Steve's face made all the rest of Bucky's protests simply fall away. He exhaled slowly and started to tear away the wrapping paper. The box was a plain white one, he figured, most likely for putting gifts that didn't come in boxes into. He tried not to get annoyed as the lid stuck. When he got it and pulled away the tissue paper, he was grateful that he had decided not to reject the gift.

Inside were a multitude of old-fashioned candies, just like the ones he and Steve used to get when they were kids and they had a few cents to spare. There were also several pairs of socks, which he desperately needed, though he would never admit it.

"I know it isn't much—" Steve started to say.

"It's perfect," Bucky cut him off as he gingerly picked up each of the different candies and examined them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve smiling. "Natasha and I spent a couple hours going around the city, trying to find a candy shop. Well, one that sold actual old fashioned candy. It's just like the stuff we used to get from Ms. Spencer's shop."

Bucky laughed a little. "Ms. Spencer hated me."

"She loved me, though." Steve grinned.

"Yeah, I know, you punk. She always snuck you extra candy."

"Maybe she wouldn't have hate you so much if you didn't try to sneak extra ribbon candies into your pockets," Steve pointed out. "She always caught you, and you kept trying to get away with it."

Bucky laughed, and it was nearly foreign rolling off his tongue. But it felt nice, too. Almost like old times.

"There is one more thing at the bottom," Steve told him.

Bucky pulled out the socks and his fingers against something smooth. Steve had saved a picture of them and the Howling Commandos for last. Bucky picked it up, holding it in both hands. His right hand trembled, and his metal stayed still and steady. The picture was black and white, and he remembered exactly when it was taken—right before their first mission all together. The faded picture, with its curling corners kept flat by the glass of the frame, looked almost out of place set into such a nice, new frame. It was kind of how he felt. Awkward and uncomfortable in a world that he hadn't even gotten a chance to truly understand yet because somebody had decided to pull him out of himself and play until he was nothing more than some puppet twisted up in strings. As he looked at Steve, and saw the distance in his best friend's eyes, he knew Steve felt the same.

"Thank you, Steve," Bucky said earnestly, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Really. This-this means a lot."

Steve smiled. "Merry Christmas, Buck. And welcome back."

**-:-**

**Hope you all liked it! Hope everyone had a good time over the holidays!**

**Reviews are very much appreciated, and I would love to hear your thoughts!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


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